


Moonlit Ink: Drabbles & Prompts

by HeRell_77



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Blood Drinking, Blood and Gore, Character Death, Demons Are Assholes, Drabble Collection, F/F, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Love Stories, Mental Health Issues, Mental Institutions, One Shot Collection, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Rape/Non-con, Psychopathology & Sociopathy, Rape Recovery, Revenge, Sea Monsters, Sirens, Suicidal Thoughts, Tumblr Prompt, Virgin Sacrifice
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2019-09-20 23:40:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17032140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeRell_77/pseuds/HeRell_77
Summary: Just a collection of short stories/writing prompts/drabbles/ some poetry...





	1. The Mirror

She looked into the broken mirror, running her fingers over the jagged cracks. The reflection she saw was not herself.

For weeks now, the face staring back at her from the mirror in her small, dingy bathroom was... different. It was her, but somehow... not. Just a bit too pale, the bags under her reflection's eyes just a bit too heavy. 

She lifted her fingers from the surface of the mirror, staring down at the tips in consternation. Freezing for a moment as she noticed that the figure in the mirror moved just a fraction of a second after she did.

As if watching her, and _copying_ her.

She pulled away, staring deep into the dark eyes that glared back at her. Just a few shades darker than she was used to. 

_It's just the lighting_ , she told herself, over and over, as she had for weeks. And as she had as she woke in a cold sweat every night, gasping in the darkness, to nightmares that made her want to tear her eyes out. _Your mind is playing tricks. Work is stressing you out, school is exhausting. That's all._

But the doubt, even in the voice in her mind, was heady. 

Her adrenaline kicked up as she noticed with a heart-stuttering gasp that her reflection no longer stared back at her. Its eyes were focused behind her, just over her shoulder, its gaunt, pale face now lined with terror as it lifted a thin, shaking finger to its lips. 

In a voice she could only describe as raspy and hellish, her reflection whispered, "Don't turn around. Don't let it know we're here."


	2. Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A rape revenge story...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** Trigger warning: dark and violent gore**

Blood is really warm. It's like drinking hot chocolate but with more screaming. 

Unfortunately, it doesn't stay warm for long, and once it has begun to cool, it leaves a bitter, metallic aftertaste in the back of my throat. But in those last death throes, with his body writhing beneath mine, his strong arms pinned above his body and tied to the empty bed frame, and his eyes wide with panic and the dawning futility of his fight for survival, that hot liquid hitting my tongue is better than any sexual climax. 

Or from what I've heard. I've only ever been with 5 men sexually, unwilling though I was. And now this man beneath me, as all the others before him, is paying for the crimes of others. 

And strengthening me with his life blood. 

When his body finally stills, his breaths stuttering and his eyelids fluttering, I pull away, smiling down at him with a morbid rictus. Just a few more minutes, a few more drops of blood into the buckets beneath him, and his heart would no longer beat. 

And I would move on to the next one in line.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m just putting up some drabbles/oneshots I’ve written from writing prompts and stuff. Let me know what you think <3


	3. Depths of the Sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ***A Siren’s greatest strength is apathy.... so what happens when she begins to..... feel? F/F one shot (5 parts) with open ending***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very little if any sex scenes in this story... just FYI ;)

Serene—

This should have been easy. How many times had I done it before, ended their lives to fulfill my duty? Hundreds...thousands of mortal lives… maybe more. All rest on my soul, taint it. Keep it black, whole, keep me safe. For as long as I’ve been in existence, since Mother Selene created me of the darkness of the sea and the foam of the waves, I have done my duty and taken the lives of the men who dared disturb Mother’s island. 

So why was this one so different? Why was this one mortal making me pause? I had killed all the others; all the men on his crew. So why couldn’t I finish him? 

I watched as his body was thrown about on the waves, almost wholly limp as blood floated in the water around him. I could tell some of it was his, but mostly it belonged to the men who died screaming around him. I could smell their death and their fear in the streaks that coated his skin, being quickly washed away by the waves crashing over his head. 

I was by his side before I knew what I was doing, cursing Zeus my morbid curiosity, my fins moving through the water faster than any other sea creature. I was the fastest even among my sisters, and I used that speed now to reach the man as quickly as possible. Something was different about this one— and I was determined to find out…. what. 

Dragging him to the shore was like carrying the feathers of sea bird— even soaking wet, the man weighed less than I felt he should have. How many times had I dragged the decaying bodies of the Island’s victims back into the water, and even dead days or weeks, they weighed more than this poor soul. 

I propped him up against a large boulder, studying his slack face, his barely fluttering eyes behind clenched lids. He was alive, yes. But barely. 

He wasn’t breathing. And I knew that was something a human should do rather regularly. 

I yanked harshly against his chest coverings— shirt, I think it’s called— to try to see if his chest rose and fell like it should. It was still as death, but also…

I reached my fingers out, gently pressing my palm against the surface that should be flat, but was distinctly rounded and full. 

Dear goddess, this human was female. I had never seen a female human before. 

And now that I studied her more closely, I could see she was far from masculine. Her eyes were small, set in a flat, rounded face. Her hair was cut short and hung lank around her face. Wet, I couldn’t determine the color, but I guessed it to be light, for even dark and with the sky a thunderous mass above us, it wasn’t as dark as mine dry. Her lips were full and curved, and I had never had such an urge to bite into a bit of flesh than I did when my eyes lay on her lips for the first time. But not to draw blood. Not to pain her. 

To make her cry out. To taste her on my tongue and feel her pant in my mouth. 

My fingertips circled the cold, puckered nipples. I was careful to keep my claws retracted so I didn’t break her skin— human skin was so very fragile— but I still managed to press too hard. Her body tipped before I could catch her, and the moment her body hit the packed sand with a thud! her entire body convulsed as sea water and vomit spewed from her mouth. I tilted her to the side, not wanting it to go back into her mouth, and watched as those eyes opened. 

And bright blue eyes the color of the deepest stormy ocean stared up at me for just a moment before they were fluttering back into her head and she was still again. 

I held my hand against her chest for a moment, content only when I felt it rise and fall a dozen times. And then I got to work. Mother Selene had banned human men from her sacred island… but I prayed to the Mother that I wouldn’t anger her with the presence of this female. 

For my curiosity would not lie. 

I needed to learn more about those lips, those breasts, and those stormy eyes that I had seen for only the smallest of moments.


	4. The Scents of Shadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **An evil spirit protects and falls in love with a woman— but can evil love, or only obsess?**

One of those, the typical. Terrifying, alert, always screaming to be heard, but silent as death I am. She's watching me, her eyes darkened with its disgusting visage. She's scared. Scared....

No. Terrified. She's terrified of me. Of _it_ , that does not deserve a name. Lean towards her, take deep breaths, try to fill nostrils with the scents of her living, mortal soul. Smell life. Her life smells of breaths taken in quick succession, the one before never doubting that the next would come to be. Like the sun rising the next day. Would pray to be so sure. To know that the next breath would come. My kind never know. We, in our infinite darkness, are never certain whether our lord will allow us a new breath. Capricious he is. Life smells of heat, and lust, passion and irritation and stress; it smells of opened windows and slammed doors, of laughter and pants of breath taken in moments of agony and skin. It smells of blood and sorrow and the shadows that only the darkest of the dark and the lightest of all the good can bring.

Life smells of breaths, of joy, of all these things, but also of death, for all life must end in death. But the death that leaks from her is faraway, in the future. It is in age, dark gray and feathery age. Surrounded by those she loved in life. I am not among them. Not among them. Not among...

A new scent arises as mourning washes over this wretched, dark being. A scent of terror. A scent of her knowing that she is being watched, and not knowing that rather than harming her, this lowly creature would suffer another hundred thousand deaths. The most painful, even more so than the first. The first... was not pleasant.

"Hello?" cries she, in a voice of hesitation. The darkness is all around, bringing this one solace, but not to her – she stares blankly into nothing. Unaware is she that I am mere feet from her, taking in her scents, her sights. Seen through the eyes of me, this creature of the underworld, of all things evil and dark and grotesque and horrifying, she is love itself. She is heart-beats and a quick pulse. She is tightening bellies and aching bodies. She is lust. She is passion. I want her. 

I want her.

Her eyes dart... seeing my wings? No, she only sees their shadow, only sees the talon poking up from the top. Anything besides this is not seen by her mortal eyes. It would be impossible.

"Please," pleads she, her small body, covered perfectly in tanned skin, smooth, supple skin, shivering in the chill wind my presence has brought. "Is anyone there?"

Her words, they linger in the air. Her breath washes over this lowly thing's face and it is not able to breathe... its lungs are incapable of breath for minutes. Minutes. Hours? Was it hours? Beauty knows no distinction.

Moving through the darkness, she tenses every few moments, but she should have nothing to fear. This lowly creature watches over her, feels her from just inches away. This is the cause of her fear, I... _it_ knows this, but it is unable to care. It will protect her. I will protect her. From all the others that watch, that taste her scent, her sight, with their long tongues, their flared nostrils. I am no better than they, but they will not touch what I dare to only glance at. Her beauty will not be mine, no, but it will not be theirs, either. I am not worthy, they are not worthy. I am shadow and evil and disgusting, vile things, they are vile and evil and disgusting things. Nothing of that nature should glance at her, at her beauty and her grace and her goodness and her light, without flinching and turning away, covering their wrinkled faces with their blackened, wrinkled hands.

She reaches the light and this lowly creature resists the urge to cry out, to tear its heart from its chest. Its heart is beating, as if it is sure it will never beat again once it loses sight of her. Its heart is crying, begging its owner to come back, to touch my disgusting face, to feel my hot skin against her cold palms. My heart wants its owner back, in the darkness, but my mind and my soul know that my heart will never forgive itself for such selfish thoughts. She belongs in light, not in vivid shadow.

This lowly creature's heart dares to reach out its hand, dares to push its limits, and its fingers trace over her arm, sending shivers up her spine, and she jumps back. And this monster is satisfied. It is whole. For a while, it can feel the equivalent a monster feels to happiness. It can call itself a name, a real name, one it had long ago and lost over time, over degradation, over hatred, over sorrow and over regret.

My name.

This unholy, vile, unearthly and disgusting creature had a name. One it is unable to use anymore. One it does not deserve. But with her touch, her touch, this creature remembered its name. Flashes of memory, of scents and sounds it had long forgotten.

With gasps of agony, I remembered life and laughter. I remembered hatred and pain and love. God, I remembered love. I remembered my love for men, for the men around me and the love I had for family. Family.

With my gasps and moans, she screamed and fled, never to look back into the darkness she had escaped from. But this lowly creature, locked up in chains of its own making, would never forget the touch of her skin, the scent that lingered, never to disperse, and the agony of emotions she wrought.

This lowly creature, hated and looked down on, living in shadow and horror, would never forget its name again. It would keep it close to its breast, and never let it go.

Hope. That was my name. That was my given name, in life where I loved and lived and hated so much I died. Died in that hatred. Died in that ugliness, to be born again in this world of shadow as something too vile to love again.

She'll never know how close this creature was. Never know the depths of its feelings. Never know it almost gave its being to become the ground she walks on. She'll never know, for none know but I. I and my capricious lord and master. And as long as there is a god in this world, she will never know him. She'll never know him, or this disgusting, disfigured, horrifying soul will break from its chains of bondage and destroy heaven and earth to return her to her rightful place. In the light. Where the smell of her life, of her passion, of this creature's lust for her, will never leave her again.


	5. Little Girl Lullaby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little Girl Lullaby faces her demons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *trigger warning* : This short story contains self harm themes, and mentions of sexual molestation. Please do not read if anything of that nature is a trigger for you.**

She knows she isn't crazy. She knows, despite what they tell her, that she is as sane as the next person. But they won't listen, won't let her explain the monsters in the dark and the claws that come, every night, only when she's alone.

She lays on her thin bed, staring up at the white ceiling, begging for sleep to come before they do. Her eyes are cold, dull, but her brain is racing. Three more hours, she thinks. And then they'll be back, faceless and begging to be heard. She shifts her arms under the blankets, pulled up to her neck and almost over her face. It makes her feel safe somehow. Like maybe they won't get her if the blanket protects her like armor. 

She looks away from the white ceiling, moving her gaze to the white wall with the black hand prints adorning it like wallpaper. Her memories flash across her eyes, moving fast as a hummingbird's wings, and she fights back a sob. She wishes she could forget little girl lullaby, her white tulle, pink satin slippers, and the ink man with the red eyes and long fingernails. She wishes, and dreams, and hopes, and prays that little girl lullaby will just go away; she wishes, and dreams, and hopes, and prays that the scars on her wrists that demon created would have done their job and she could begin again in the clouds.

She remembers the doctors' voices, all speaking at once. "The monsters don't exist. Little girl lullaby is a figment of your imagination, a vision your psyche created to deal with your childhood."

"No!" she says. "No, I can feel her, here, inside me."

But they never listen, only shake their heads and push her away. But the one doctor, the one who pulls himself away from the others, he seems to understand. He watches her, his eyes so clear she can see into his soul.

"Listen," he says gently, a small smile on his hesitant face. "Tonight, when the monsters come and little girl lullaby asks you where she is, listen, and answer as best you can. Maybe you'll come to understand why they come to you each and every night."

She thinks on this as she watches the room around her, with the black hand prints that cover everything. But, just as the moon begins to rise in the starless sky, little girl lullaby begins to cry.

She looks down at her, little girl lullaby's face coated in pink tears, with the hand prints painted on her white tulle in black ink and the little tiara on her soft hair. 

She looks down at little girl lullaby with tears in her own eyes, and asks as quietly as she can,"What's wrong, little girl lullaby?"

Little girl lullaby looks around, doesn't listen, and screams, so loud and piercing and full of fear it makes her scrunch her eyes shut against it.

"Where's my mama?" little girl lullaby cries.

"Oh, little girl lullaby, don't you cry. Your mama's in a palace, up in the stars."

"Oh," sighs little girl lullaby, not listening. "Where's my daddy?"

"Little girl lullaby, don't you cry, your daddy's in the green pastures up in the skies."

"Oh," says little girl lullaby, suddenly afraid. "Where am I?"

"Little girl lullaby, you're locked away, 'cause I can't bear to see your little girl slippers and your little girl bows."

"Who," squeaks little girl lullaby, still deaf to her pleas. "Who gonna take care of me, now I'm all alone?"

"Oh, little girl lullaby, alone is better than life with him."

Finally, little girl lullaby looks at her, her face streaked with the black ink and pink tears. Her eyes are wide as she whispers, "The ink man."

And then little girl lullaby is gone, and to replace her, sharp blackened claws and a horrifying grin, speaking of pain and a longing for darkness that could never be sated in mortal life. She screams and fights against demon's claws raking against her wrists, creating the scars that run ragged up and down her arms, but he's smiling and she can't break free.

"Why are you so weak?"

"Demon," she cries, her tears leaving bloodstains on her pillow. "My mama and my daddy, they went to live in the light now, and they left me all alone to face the demons and the night."

"Why," says demon, staring into her eyes somehow, even though his are covered in two white lines, crisscrossing to create x's across the lids, to keep his eyes clenched shut against the light and the visions he can't get out of his mind. "Why didn't you fight?"

"I fought against him so long, demon, I just had to stop fighting."

"Why," says demon, his breath in her ear as hot as embers. His voice sounds like nine men, all speaking at once, telling her things she doesn't want to believe. "Why are you so pathetic?"

"Oh demon," she sobs. "He put blackened hand prints all over my bedroom, and now I can't sleep there anymore."

"Why can't you learn to paint over the black?"

"Oh demon," she sighs, her eyes falling closed against her will as she loses all strength and wants to give in to the seemingly endless power of demon's anger and vehemence. "I wish I could, but it's just so deeply embedded in the walls and the furniture. It's impossible."

"Who can you ask to fight for you?"

She looks up and her eyes grow wide, only just beginning to understand. "Dragonfly."

Finally, a soft but firm hand grips demon's shoulder, and just as quickly as little girl lullaby left, demon is gone. Dragonfly smiles down at her, his smile as wide as the English channel. He is always the most frightening to her, with his dragonfly wings fluttering on his back, but somehow, tonight, he seems kind and quietly somber.

"Oh, how did you come to be here?" he says gently, helping her to her feet and putting his hand on her chin to make her look up at him, at his face that is blurred, as if he was being looked at through glass.

"Dragonfly, please don't judge me, but demon and I came to this point together. He is the reason I hide under the blankets from the darkness."

"How did you come to be this way?" dragonfly asks, staring at her with his eyes that are so blue she can see his thoughts.

"Dragonfly, please understand," she begs. "Little girl lullaby and I stopped fighting because the ink on my walls was just too heavy to carry anymore. That is the reason I am all alone in the darkness, the reason I allowed demon to claw my wrists that almost carried me into the white lights and the purple dreams."

"Oh, don't you see?" dragonfly asks, reaching down and pulling the white strips off of her eyes and wiping away the pink tears that cover her cheeks.

She stands and looks into dragonfly's eyes, so clear she can see into his thoughts. "Dragonfly, please don't be angry, but I can't open my eyes for fear of seeing. That's why I wear the white x's, to cover what my glance might light on."

"Well," says dragonfly gently. "It's time you allowed yourself to see."

She looks back and sees little girl lullaby and demon, hand in hand, watching her, little girl lullaby's eyes begging her to see her and understand, the black hand prints on demon practically jumping out at her. And he looks different than he ever had, his face much more feminine than it had always been, looking almost soft and sad. He holds little girl lullaby's hand gently, as if comforting her and trying to erase the tears. His hard face watches her, protecting her blindly.

She turns to a mirror on the wall and sees herself. She sees, on her face, demon's bittersweet smile, little girl lullaby's soft and innocent lips, and dragonfly's eyes that show into her soul. And the black hand prints that had been so heavy on her body are replaced with pink skin, as clear as little girl lullaby's had been before ink man painted over it. And only a few smudges remain, just as a reminder of what was, for she can never go back to white tulle and golden tiaras, but she can move past demon claws and to dragonfly wings that would take her to freedom.

"I understand," she whispers, and all three disappear. But she knows they're there, deep inside her, hidden away where no one but she can see.


	6. The Sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Writing prompt:
> 
> “You were just thrown into a volcano as a virgin sacrifice. They never expected you to walk back out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m gonna try for some writing prompts over the next few days, because the writers’ block is strong with me the past few weeks...

WRITING PROMPT= 

"You were just thrown into a volcano as a virgin sacrifice. They never expected you to walk back out."

*******************************

I knew I had to get out of the ropes they'd bound me in. Soon. And not for the reasons one would expect. They'd fucking hogtied me, my wrists bound so tightly to my ankles I was twisted like a damn pretzel. A "virgin sacrifice," they called me. A sacrifice for their local fire deity Abak'arr. Supposedly, he was angry at the village that occupied the base of the volcano for their recent debauchery and allowing outsiders to breed with their own, dirtying the pure blood of the natives. 

I myself enjoyed the debauchery I'd encountered in their little village. And virgin? It made me want to laugh. You don't get to be untold millennia without losing your V-card, y'know? Multiple times. In many positions. With countless partners of both sexes, and quite a few species. Often all at the same time. I liked sex. Loved it. It was one of the few human inventions I truly enjoyed. And I wasn't ashamed of that. On the contrary, I was quite open about my proclivities. 

Somehow the idiots had got it in their heads that I was not only a virgin, but one pure enough to sacrifice to Abak'arr. Which I would have been able to laugh off and escape the village I'd been enjoying my time in for the last few years or so, if it weren't for the kryptonite they'd somehow known to bind my entire body with.

No, not actual kryptonite. I'm not bloody Superman. I'm... well, you don't need to know what I am. You wouldn't believe me anyways. 

Not actual kryptonite, but it may as well have been. The villagers had tied a necklace made of a hemp I'd thought was extinct. I'd thought it was extinct, because hundreds of years ago I'd set the last of it afire and watched it burn with maniacal laughter before passing out so near the flame I woke with my body covered in ash. 

What could I say? I was drunk, and more than a little high. I'd seen the chance to rid myself of an annoying problem, and I'd taken it. 

I never knew why that one kind of hemp could keep me bound and weak as a human. It was used in Ancient Greece as belts by the priests of Apollo, and even further back in China by poor villagers to ward of demons. 

It really only warded me off, though. Never hurt or weakened any demons I'd known. 

Now I lay with that damn thick hemp nearly surrounding my body, and I was cursing the names of each of the gods I could think of, and more than a few of the Unnamed gods whose names had been forgotten and lost over time. 

But I remember them. Because they were as children to me. 

I, who couldn't even break through this damn hemp. 

Abak'arr would regret demanding a sacrifice. I swore it.

The reason I had to get out before they threw me into the volcano wasn't for any reason anyone would guess. I didn't fear the heat, the flames, the depths of the darkness. None of it would even faze me. 

I just bought this damn outfit,— a cute little one-piece jumpsuit— and it had cost me an arm and a leg. It was Versace, for the gods' sake, and had cost nearly $2,000. Yeah, you heard me. Two big ones. So yes, I really didn't want it burned up in the damn volcano. Especially not for some unimportant god. I'd never even heard of him— a poor local god. And his followers thought to sacrifice me to him?

I'd ensure the opposite happened. I liked humans, generally, but these ones were about to piss me off. And their poor god would pay the price. 

Just as I managed to get one of my hands free, with no small bit of struggle, the idiot humans lifted me into the air. Their high priest chanted in some god-awful forgotten tongue, and I was being heaved towards the volcano's edge. 

I screamed through the bindings around my mouth, begging them with as much pleading as I could muster to please at least _fucking undress me first_ , but none of them listened. They probably thought I was begging for my life. 

They'd know differently soon. The fires of the volcano would eat through the hemp, and I'd take out my revenge for my lost pretty on their god, then on them. 

With one last annoying howl, the priest ordered the villagers to throw me in the volcano. And without further ado, I was hurled into the depths of flame and deep darkness. 

It was only seconds before the hemp was sizzling from my skin. A few more seconds and the startled Abak'arr was howling in his death throes as I pummeled him like a psycho, screaming about the pretty suit he destroyed with his greedy, grubby little claws. 

Within a minute of being thrown in, I was crawling back out of the volcano, glaring up at the terrified humans as the volcano, its god dead in its depths, began to spit and bubble below us. 

My cute little one-piece a tattered mess around my body, clinging with ashy fingers, I stalked towards the priest, stomping my now-bare feet like a pouting toddler. Stopping right before him, I spit at his feet and slammed my hand on my hip. 

"That was my favorite outfit, you asshole," I grumbled, just as the volcano spit its first lick of flame into the air behind me. 

Oops.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***** My favorite part of this story: is it a male or female narrating? 🤷♀️🤷♀️ Let me know what you think *********


End file.
